and I can tell by the look in your eyes, you didn't know the way
by Ford.Ye.Fiji
Summary: None of the Hargreeves children were a fan of their father's advanced individual training. Especially Number Five.


**A/N: i named the doc Sir Reginald is a douche canoe XD also i apologize, this is just raw angst :)))))**

Five clenched his fists, pretending he wasn't sweating at the thought of the new individual training regimes that their father had devised. They'd mostly worked on teamwork and furthering their abilities with each other. Then their father had decided that they'd needed advanced training tailored specifically to their own abilities.

He'd heard about Klaus and the mausoleum, who hadn't after all?

Five won't admit that he'd teleported into the dark tomb when the old man gave him free time. Not that he would ever admit it. There was just something in him that couldn't _not_ help Number Four. He wouldn't shut up and he liked to be annoying at any and all opportunities, and he constantly smelled of whatever substance he'd decided to sneak in and abuse this week. Despite all reason and logic, however, he'd defied his father and snuck into Four's- Klaus's prison and allowed the slightly taller boy to cling to his jacket and dribble snot and tears all over it. Five wouldn't admit that he'd felt some sort of knot inside him tighten protectively when Four- _Klaus_ had whimpered pitifully against his chest, fists desperately digging into his jacket, trying to reassure himself that he was real.

However, that had been Four's tests. His had taken significantly longer than One, Two, and Three's. One... Luther had completed his in a few days, whatever had happened with him, he'd confided solely with Three about it. Diego's, not Two's, _Diego's_ absence had been six days long, the basement had been quarantined for that whole time and when he'd emerged, his stutter was definitely more pronounced. He refused to speak about what had happened and snapped at anyone who asked. Three- Allison had only taken as long as Luther, though her voice was hoarse afterwards and she refused to speak to them or look her father in the eye afterwards.

Of course, then Four had gone through hell. He was consistently gone during the better part of a day for two weeks. Mom would always cheerfully reassure them that Klaus was fine, but her lips would twist with worry when she thought they weren't looking.

Now, however, Klaus had sat down at the breakfast table that morning and the old man had spoke firmly as he snapped open his newspaper, "Number Four, your individual training has come to an end. Number Five, I expect you in my office at nine o'clock." With those sharp words, he flicked his hand pointedly and Pogo started the record, fizzing as it came to life.

Four had looked remarkably cheered and Five had swallowed nervously. He did not want to know what his father had in store for him.

That brought him to now, exactly nine o'clock in the morning as he pretended he wasn't anxious as he rapped on the door to their father's study.

"Enter!"

Five pushed open the door, stopping at the threshold of the room. The old man had pounded rather firmly into their minds that they were not to cross any further into the room unless expressly permitted to by him.

Sir Reginald Hargreeves stood, eyeing the watch he'd pulled from his vest, "You're late by exactly thirty seconds Number Five."

Five's brows drew down, before letting the self-satisfied smirk that he knew the old man hated fall into place, "Well," He shrugged before shoving his hands into the pockets of his shorts, "The clocks must need wound up again."

The old man harrumphed disapprovingly before stepping around his desk and standing across from Five. He studied him critically, like one examined a bug under a microscope. Five didn't so much as twitch. He knew this was his father's favorite tactic to unsettle people while gauging their attitude. No one liked feeling like they were being dissected and vivisected mentally.

Sir Reginald huffed again and moved past the twelve year old, "Follow me, Number Five." Five scowled as the old man moved away, long legs fast out pacing him. He had to trot to keep up. His siblings had never thought of it as more than a mild inconvenience. Five, however, prided himself on being able to understand the old man. He didn't do anything without reason. Having to run to simply keep up with him put them in their place.

Five scowled as the old man stopped outside one of their many training rooms.

Sir Reginald pushed open the door, and Five followed him in.

The doors closed with a click.

The old man picked up a white folded object on the table, "Now Number Five. You've decided yourself that you have a handle on spatial jumps. Teleporting out of rooms is hardly impressive, however."

Five scowled.

Reginald shook out the object, what Five could now see to be clothing, "You will need to teleport yourself out of restraints, Number Five."

Five swallowed as Reginald passed over the shirt, buckles up and down the back, "Put this on, Number Five."

Reginald marched over to the door, calling loudly, "Pogo!"

The monkey appeared a few seconds later, "Yes, Master Hargreeves?"

Sir Reginald snipped, "Help secure Number Five."

Five realized, again, the sweat breaking out, that the shirt was a jacket and not just any jacket, clean, white, and clinical with its sleeves wrapped around his body. A straitjacket.

"Of course sir." Pogo knelt down beside Five, eyes apologizing as he snapped the buckles into place. Five swallowed back the lump in his throat, brows drawn down angrily as Pogo finished tightening the straps.

Reginald narrowed his eyes and then added, "Something isn't quite right. Pogo if this was a hostage situation, what do you think is missing?"

Pogo's eyes flicked from Five to his master, "I... don't know sir."

"Come now, Pogo. Contribute!"

Pogo shook his head, "I don't really know, Master Hargreeves."

Five knew what his father was getting at, and the more Pogo delayed, the longer this stupid test would take, "You don't want your hostage calling for help."

Reginald harrumphed, "That took you too long Number Five."

Five scowled. You couldn't win with him.

Pogo shook his head as he went to go search for tape.

When he returned, Pogo apologetically pressed a large strip over his mouth. Five gave him his most deadpan look. He knew that Pogo could see right through his armor, but the man (monkey?) didn't press.

Five had expected that. What he hadn't expected was for Sir Reginald to push him along to the large wooden China cabinet against the wall. The top shelves still held Diego's knives among other things. He opened up the bottom door, which had been cleaned out. Reginald snapped as he noticed Five's hesitance, "Well? Get in Number Five!"

Five wanted to shake his head, he wanted to protest loudly but he couldn't. He remembered Four's pleading, met only with disgust and the door closing again. He squeezed inside the cramped space, folding his legs against him and leaning against the right wall. He barely fit, his head bent uncomfortably against the top.

Reginald slammed the door in his face and darkness encased the place.

Five couldn't suppress his yelp of surprise.

He heard their footsteps shuffle away.

He was alone.

In the dark.

He could do this. He concentrated, feeling for the fabric of space-time around him. He pulled, he could feel the energies flickering around his hands.

Nothing happened.

He tried again, trying not to let his sphere of influence get large enough to transport the jacket with him. It wasn't enough. He tried again.

And again.

And again.

It wasn't working!

He tried to suppress his panic. Panic never did any good in these situations. His stupid brain wouldn't stop spinning and he couldn't get a breath in properly through the tape. He clenched his fists, he could feel the energy swirling, but too much would transport him away with the jacket and too little did nothing.

How long had he been in here anyway?

He jerked involuntarily and his head banged against the ceiling. Five had never been claustrophobic but damn if he wasn't right now. His breathing quickened in a panic but he couldn't get air and the cabinet was closing around him on all sides and he felt like he was drowning in this darkness.

He closed his eyes, but he needed out _now_.

He couldn't teleport, he couldn't do it, not yet. Panic clawed at his throat and he hit on an idea. Squirming around, he managed to put his back at the wall and his feet towards the door.

Screw the old man.

He kicked feebly and the doors shook. He wasn't Luther by any means, and his power was severely hindered by lack of space, but the doors were old and weren't strengthened for this either. He kept kicking.

Within a few minutes, the doors popped outwards, banging against the sides of the cabinet. Five rolled out, huffing angrily. The doors to the room banged open as he sat up.

Sir Reginald Hargreeves stood over him, lips thin, "Number Five. I expected better of you."

Five snarled something around the tape. Even though his words weren't understandable, his meaning was clear. Reginald turned to shout impatiently out the door, "Pogo!"

* * *

Five kicked against the cabinet doors, yelling unintelligibly as the hammering on the other side stopped. With a clunk he knew the bar had been placed along the doors and then with a click, the heavy metal lock Pogo had retrieved was set into place. Sir Reginald spoke through the door, "Work smarter not harder, Number Five! You are not One!"

He heard muffled footsteps as he left the room. Five banged his head against the wall furiously. He struggled to call upon his teleportation. The fabric of reality shimmered.

He went nowhere.

Five struggled to breathe.

* * *

What seemed to be hours later, Five gave up. He hadn't rebelled like his brothers and sisters, mostly because their father had things to teach them. He was a prick, but he had useful knowledge- and when Five learned all he could from him, he'd reasoned, then he'd take his leave. Preferably with his siblings. He knew this test was important, but something inside him refused to do it. He was tired of doing what the old man wanted, tired of taking revenge in what little petty ways he could. Klaus had held out for weeks in a graveyard filled with screaming terrors that would make his father wet his pants if he saw them. He'd be damned if he did one more thing his father wanted, especially if it involved him being stuck in a cabinet, the walls feeling like they were shrinking with every minute. The old man could go choke on his dinner. Five furiously yanked on the full force of his power and disappeared completely.

He hadn't thought too clearly about where he was going, he hadn't calculated exactly, and that was his downfall again. Thinking without his head was a foolish thing to do and he should have known better.

He jumped and found himself in the air a foot or so above the kitchen table. He landed with crash, smashing dishes and crushing mom's favorite flower arrangement. Allison screamed and Vanya shrieked, shielding her face with her hands. Luther fell over backwards and Ben jumped, book slipping out of his hands.

Klaus giggled, "Five for supper? My favorite!"

Reginald stood, as Pogo brought the record to a screeching halt, "_Number Five!_"

Five looked up, eyes wide. With a muffled shout he squirmed across the ruined table, rolling off onto his own two feet, shouting angrily through the tape, his wide range of curses completely muffled. Vanya eyed him, a hand over her mouth as she winced at his restraints. Ben nibbled on his lip worriedly as Sir Reginald grabbed the back of the jacket, dragging him across the floor and away from the table, Five's feet slipping against the floorboards. Allison winced with sympathy as their father hauled him away, scolding angrily, "Number Five, you are a disappointment! You _will_ do as I say!"

The doors to the dining room closed. The children were silent.

Diego flinched at the sound of a slap.

Even Klaus didn't say anything smart when ten or so minutes later, their father returned to sit at the table. He flipped open his newspaper, "Pogo, resume the recording."

The audio crackled to life.

Luther tentatively resumed eating. Allison followed his example and Diego slowly munched on his bread roll. Klaus fiddled with his nails. Ben exchanged nervous glances with Vanya.

Vanya avoided his gaze. She didn't feel hungry anymore.

They jumped as with another flash, Five was on the table again, still in the straitjacket but this time his ankles bound with one of mom's scarves, his cheek red from a handprint, as he glowered.

Reginald looked like he might explode.

Five gave his siblings a smug, ever so proud look as he was frogmarched away again.

However, when Five was led away, he was sat down in his father's office. He was farther into the room than he'd ever been before.

Reginald sat across from him, fingers clasped together as he studied him. Five glared, wishing the tape was gone so he could tell the old man exactly what he thought of him and where exactly he could shove his test.

Reginald finally spoke, "Number Five, your defiance is unacceptable."

Five rolled his eyes.

Reginald spoke, "However, you seem to have discovered that I am quite incapable of forcing you to do what I want." He spread his hands, "I was prepared for this scenario eventually." He sighed, "You are predictably disappointing, Number Five."

Five raised an eyebrow.

Reginald's brows furrowed against his monocle, "Let me make myself clear, Number Five. If you do not do this test, as I know you are fully capable of, one way or another, there will be consequences."

Five said exactly what he thought of that. Reginald could understand his meaning just fine, "If you don't resume your training, I will resume Number Four's training."

Five exploded, shouting against his tape, protesting against the unfairness. Reginald continued, "I _will_ confiscate Number Seven's violin and forbid her from continuing her practices, and I will _make sure_ that Number Six finds his individual training _especially_ difficult."

Five snarled, but he knew Reginald had won.

Reginald stood, a smirk pulling the corner's of his mouth up, pleased he'd calculated and pinned down Five's weakness so perfectly. Number One may have been the Umbrella Academy's intended leader and Number Two may still be striving to usurp him (and rather successfully too if he ever got over the blasted stutter- Number One did not have the intuition that Number Two did), Number Five was the real mover and shaker. He was wickedly smart, and he was able to see the big picture. His weakness however, was his ridiculous attachment to the rest of his siblings. Reginald had been critical of the bonds forming, but now they were turning out to be quite... useful.

"Do I have your cooperation, Number Five?"

Five glowered, before nodding his head.

"Good."

* * *

Five was hungry. His knees hurt and his feet had long since gone numb. His arms felt like they were trying to leave his shoulder sockets, straining against the jacket. The house had gone quiet hours ago, which probably meant everyone had gone to sleep.

Five suppressed his whimper as he tried to move his head, neck aching. He couldn't figure it out and he _hated_ it. He felt stupid.

He concentrated, but not even ripples formed around his hands this time. He'd been stuck here since nine o'clock that morning. Surely they'd let him eat when it was nine o'clock again?

He fell into a fitful sleep, waking at the sound of the clock chiming for breakfast.

No one had come for him.

Five struggled, going over the calculations in his head again and again. Nothing about it made sense, it should be working! He'd taken everything he did normally and tried to shrink it to the proportions he wanted.

His brain wasn't working properly, he couldn't concentrate around the thirst and hunger, he felt like he had a full body ache and his head was killing him. The darkness pulled at him, the air thick and heavy. He wanted to leave so badly. He wanted to spit in the old man's face. He didn't want Klaus back in the mausoleum. He just wanted to listen to Vanya play her violin and discuss trivial things with Ben, the only person who could even sort of keep up with his intellect.

Five would deny later that he'd leaned as much as he could back against the wall of the cabinet and cried.

* * *

It had to be day two now of his adventures of being locked in the cabinet.

Five felt frail and shaky. He probably looked horribly pale and he could feel the heavy dark circles under his eyes. He needed to figure this out. His calculations were correct. There was nothing wrong with them. He shoved his virtual algorithms and equations away from the forefront of his mind.

What was he missing?

Usually when he jumped, he...

_Oh._

He'd forgotten about the instinctual part of his jumps. Not all of it was expressly and carefully thought through. There was always a measure of instinct that came with his natural born powers. He needed to retrain that instinct. He'd always thought of what he was wearing as a part of himself. All he needed to do was separate the straitjacket from his self perception and pull...?

Five feverishly worked out the thoughts in this brief moment of lucidity. He closed his eyes, fingers digging into his palms.

He disappeared in a flash.

All that was left behind in the cabinet was the scarf that had been around his ankles and the straitjacket- suddenly, conspicuously empty.

Five reappeared in his bedroom.

He viciously ripped the tape off his mouth, wincing as it peeled away. He took deep gulping breaths, furiously scrubbing at his face. There were dried tear tracks staining his cheeks and his hair was sticking up in places. He stretched wincing as muscles and bone popped. Everything _hurt_. He flopped back on his bed, closing his eyes.

They flew open again as the bell for lunch rang.

_Food_.

He scrambled to his feet, glancing into the mirror, again. His face was suspiciously red but at least, not too noticeable. He attempted to smooth his hair, frowned when it wouldn't stay flat and the stumbled out of his room towards the stairs.

Whatever. He just needed to eat.

He was the last one to make it to the table. It bore no evidence of yesterday's accidents. He straightened his rumpled umbrella academy jacket and walked over to the table, pulling out his chair with a conspicuous screech.

The old man didn't even look up.

Luther blinked but pointedly avoided eye contact as he sat down shakily. Allison smiled brightly. Diego rolled his eyes but smirked slightly. Klaus gave him a covert thumbs up. Vanya peered carefully at him from under her bangs as Ben, looking worried, mouthed quietly, "Are you okay?"

Five shrugged halfheartedly and threw up a smug smirk, mouthing back, "_Of course, the old man couldn't beat me._"

Vanya coughed, signaling that their father was looking. Five met his gaze head on, one brow raising defiantly despite the tremors in his hands and back as he sat stiff as a board. Reginald huffed, looking back to his newspaper.

He nodded at Vanya and Vanya grinned widely, uncharacteristic in her joy.

Her meaning was clear.

She was glad he was back.

He allowed a small genuine grin in return and dug into his food.

Sir Reginald Hargreeves observed the children out of the corner of eye before fully returning to reading his newspaper. Number Five was coming along nicely in his opinion and his fondness for his siblings was proving to be a useful leash to control him with.

Five finished chewing and snorted fondly at Klaus's antics.

A useful tool indeed.


End file.
